


Baricos

by macbyrne



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macbyrne/pseuds/macbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur go on a hunt for a mythical beast, but it doesn't go as either of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baricos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furloughday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furloughday/gifts).



> furloughday asked for Steampunk for Christmas, and unfortunately wound up with someone who has never read steampunk and couldn't write sci-fi like that to save her life. I tried, really I tried!!! But it just wasn't happening, babe. I'm sorry! I tried to keep with the rest of your prompt: I'd like a 1,000 word story about Merlin and Arthur on some sort of hunt after a mythical beast. I tried to put in the snark you requested too. I hope you like!!! Merry Christmas!!!

“A manticore?”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin’s question.

“Yes, Merlin.  A manticore.  Have you packed my bags yet?  I want to leave immediately.”

“But Arthur... a manticore?”

“For God’s sake, Merlin!  How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“At least once more.”

Arthur smirks.  “Villagers on the outskirts of the kingdom have reported seeing a manticore in the woods.  Nobody’s died yet, but some livestock has been savaged, so it’s only a matter of time.”

“Manticores actually exist?”

“No, I thought I’d have a lark and pull your leg a bit.  Now come on!”

Merlin hurriedly grabs their kit, along with Arthur’s long leather coat, and follows his prince along the corridor.

Merlin’s been a bit on edge for the last few weeks.  He’s doing more magic than ever and not even in the fun way, like using his powers to polish Arthur’s armor or heat his bath water.  No, Merlin’s spending all his time and energy saving Arthur’s stupid life, because he keeps going on hunts after things like _manticores_ , which are supposed to be the stuff of legends and exist only in books.  They’re not supposed to be flouncing about Camelot like drunkards after a royal feast, too inebriated to know when it’s time to go home and stop bothering _his_ prince with stupid requests and...

And it’s possible that after the last seventeen times of saving Arthur’s life, Merlin is getting a tad possessive.

So he follows Arthur, follows him to the stables to collect their horses, follows him along the road that leads to the outlying areas of the kingdom.  He follows Arthur and five of his men as they set up a camp on the first night, and he follows Arthur to his bedroll, knowing that Arthur won’t allow Merlin to sleep farther than an arm’s reach from him.

He’s wondered about that, despite his best efforts.  Wondered why, in spite of the fact he seems to irritate Arthur more often than not, Arthur insists on always keeping Merlin close by.  Arthur prefers Merlin to spend the night on the rollaway cot in Arthur’s room, presumably in the event Arthur decides he needs a fresh goblet of water in the middle of the night and the pitcher that Merlin refilled right before bedtime has gone tepid.  Dire emergencies like that.

It’s the same when they’re hunting.  Or questing.  Or adventuring.  Or whatever verb Arthur decides best describes whatever foolhardy mission he’s pursuing.  Arthur always insists that Merlin lay out his bedroll right next to Arthur’s.  Merlin’s not sure what middle-of-the-night crisis Arthur expects Merlin to be able to assist with when they’re camping rough.  It’s not like he’s any good with the sword Arthur insists he carries with him on these little jaunts.  Maybe it’s just so when Arthur feels the need to shove his bare stinking feet in someone’s face, Merlin’s right there to lend a hand.  Or a face, as the case may be.

Merlin listens to Arthur’s soft snores, and the hushed movements of the men who are on watch, and stares up at the stars.  He desperately does not want to be here, practically alone with Arthur in the middle of the woods. 

It’s not the danger of the hunt they’re on, although that worries him too.  A manticore means Arthur won’t be content to hang back and let his men do the dirty work.  Not that Arthur ever hangs back.  Merlin’s quite sure no one has ever introduced Arthur to the concepts of caution or prudence.  Arthur is an excellent tactician and strategist, but all his plans usually involve him being on the front line, leading the charge.  Which means Merlin will end up having to use magic to save Arthur’s life.  Again.

No, what bothers Merlin the most is the difficulty he’s having keeping himself from looking Arthur straight in the face and blurting out all the truths that Merlin is hiding from him.  Not just his magic.  Not just the fact that Merlin is a powerful sorcerer who saves Arthur’s life on a daily basis.  Although those mundane facts would be bad enough.  No, Merlin is more worried over Arthur’s possible reaction to Merlin confessing he’s in love with the Crown Prince.  And this is knowing the reaction to his confession of _sorcery_ would be a beheading.

 

~*~

 

It turns out that the manticore is not a threat to anything anymore, not livestock and not the villagers.  The rampaging beast that Merlin imagined is actually an old, limping thing with haunted eyes that practically lays down for them and begs for Arthur’s sword.

Merlin watches as Arthur’s men draw straws to decide who will kill the pitiful creature.  He watches as Arthur dismisses his men and steps up to the shivering trembling manticore.  He hears the manticore’s voice, a soft musical lilt, but he can’t make out the words.  He watches Arthur pale a little and stagger in surprise before he nods in reply to whatever the manticore has said.  Finally, he watches Arthur lift his sword.  Then he can’t watch anymore.

Arthur is unusually quiet on the trek back to Camelot, not bantering with his men, not snapping at Merlin’s complaints about the persistent rain that has begun to fall or the mud that the horses’ hooves throw up or the fact that he’s hungry, _again_.  Eventually, Merlin begins complaining just to try and get a response from Arthur.  Any response would do at this point and he’s becoming increasingly worried the quieter Arthur gets.

They’re about an hour from Camelot when Arthur stops his horse.  He sends his men back to the castle, ignoring their surprised looks, and puts a hand out to grab Merlin’s reins when it looks like he might be following them. 

Arthur waits until the men are gone, and then waits again, until even the sound of the horses’ hooves have faded under the sound of the rain. 

“I hated killing that thing.”

Merlin doesn’t have to look at Arthur’s face to know how miserable he feels.  Arthur’s tone is enough.  Merlin knows just how badly killing something so pitiable grated on Arthur’s sense of honour and chivalry. 

“I know.”

“Did you know manticores sometimes ask you riddles?  Like sphinxes, apparently.”

Merlin shakes his head.

“It told me a riddle.  Said it was a gift for killing it.”

“What was the riddle?”

Arthur still hasn’t let go of Merlin’s reins.

“ _’He gives you his life, his magic and his heart.  They are yours for the keeping.  Break one and break them all_.’  And then it said, ‘ _Magic is not always evil, young Prince._ ’”

Merlin can feel all the blood rush out of his face.  This is it.  Arthur knows, Arthur knows _everything_.  He’ll have to leave Camelot, leave _Arthur_ and he has no idea how he can do that, how he can leave his future, his heart, his _destiny_ behind him but Merlin knows there is no choice.  Arthur will tell his father everything, and Uther will not abide a sorcerer in his kingdom.  Merlin will be lucky to escape with his life.

Merlin blinks back the tears that want to flood his eyes and then Arthur’s face swims into view.  He tries to jerk back, wants desperately to run, certain that Arthur is about to strike him for lying, but Arthur _still_ has the damned reins.  Even if he released them, Merlin is well aware that Arthur is on the faster horse.  He’d catch Merlin before he got out of the clearing.

Then Arthur’s lips are on his, warm and soft, and Arthur’s hand is on his face, carding softly through his hair, and Merlin is suddenly completely grateful that Arthur still has his reins, because he would have dropped them in surprise.

When Arthur pulls back, his eyes are warmly affectionate.  He passes Merlin the reins and snickers when Merlin fumbles them and almost drops them.  He leans over for another quick kiss and then nudges his horse into an easy trot.  He calls back over his shoulder, “Easiest riddle ever.  I’ve known the answer for months."


End file.
